Brown Paper Packages
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: While they may be one of Julie Andrew's favorite things when tied up with string, for Leroy Jethro Gibbs they merely meant bad news and body parts. Jibbs, in a sense and after a fashion.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Don't kill me for starting another story. I need massive, hardcore angst, no one-shots will come out for me, and I desperately need to get out of my own head. I've had this planned for weeks, and since this is one of the angstiest storylines I have planned, I figured it was my best choice.

There is a chance the rating will rise to M- I will advise ahead of time if it does.

Listen to 'All Fall Apart' by Michael Weatherly. Yes, he sings, and this song is brilliant.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline.

* * *

><p>It was a typical morning in the NCIS bullpen, on the outside.<p>

Tony was failing at getting his paperwork done like he did every Monday, Ziva was threatening him with office supplies while somehow managing to finish all her work, and Tim McGee was desperately trying to ignore them while typing at a pace any normal human wouldn't be able to maintain. And Gibbs, the leader of the pack, was ignoring all activity around him as he drank coffee after coffee and studiously did not get his paperwork done.

It had gone uncommented that Director was decidedly absent from the agency that morning, which was a rarity.

No one had seen her arrive, and her office had remained locked all day. Perhaps she'd taken the day off; perhaps she'd overslept at a lover's house? Perhaps she'd taken a romantic weekend away with a mystery man, and they'd become stranded? No one dared to guess aloud, for fear that they were wrong, but mostly for fear that they'd anger their boss by so much as mentioning her name.

Director Shepard and Special Agent Gibbs had been at odds lately, the entire agency could tell. Their fights had seemed to escalate in recent weeks, and no one was quite sure of the reason why. All they knew was that if you were in an elevator with both of them, it was advised to get out, as soon as possible.

The members of Team Gibbs just knew that if the fights were to get much worse, one of the two would break. No one could internalize that much anger and not show any cracks.

"Tony, is it possible for you not to hum?" Ziva asked, breaking the otherwise heavy silence with irritation in her tone as she glared at her partner, her chocolate brown eyes flashing. Tony's lopsided grin was quick, and he leaned over his desk as he flashed her a mischievous glance with his dancing hazel eyes.

"What've you got against humming Zee-vah?" he countered, one of his eyebrows rising as he folded his arms on his desk. She scowled, her face tightening as she gazed back at him.

"It is very annoying," she stated simply, her hands inching towards her letter opener. Tony swallowed, but kept his cool as he continued to torment her.

"Ziva, it's Frank Sinatra. You can't hate Old Blue Eyes," Tony said, shaking his head. The thought was utterly ludicrous to him.

"Just because it is Sinatra does not mean you must hum it," Ziva replied, her gaze sharpening to daggers. "Repeatedly."

"Oh- would you prefer if I sang it repeatedly instead?" Tony asked, and Ziva looked about ready to kill him when McGee interrupted.

"Would you two just shut up about it already?" Tim asked, glaring at the two of them. "Some of us are actually trying to get work done, and your stupid, pointless argument is distracting and irritating. If you both just shut up, maybe we'd actually be able to get what we needed to done!"

Both Tony and Ziva looked at him shocked, but then they spared a glance at each other before turning back. Tim swallowed, regretting his decision to speak. Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut like he normally did?

Tony and Ziva were about to turn their attention onto McGee and his outburst when the mail cart arrived and Jerry, the mail boy, set a package on Gibbs' desk, having him sign before disturbing the few other bits of mail throughout the bullpen. Jerry left the now-silent bullpen, and it was like the air had suddenly grown thicker. The partners' fighting stopped as they gazed at the small package, wrapped in plain brown paper; the kind that you wrapped something fragile in. There was no return address written on the paper; there was only Gibbs' name and the address to the NCIS building in the exact center of the box, along with a stamp in the corner, with the stamp showing it had passed security.

All in all, the sight of it was quite unnerving, and alarming. And they all knew nothing could possibly come from opening it.

Immediately, they could tell their boss was on alert. He pulled on plastic gloves before touching it, and carefully removed the paper wrapping, setting it aside for Abby to test. He slit the tape along the top with his pocketknife and made sure to cut all the way through it before moving forward, and the air seemed to stand still as he opened the flaps slowly, one at a time. All eyes widened as they gazed at the now-open box, and Ziva had difficulty holding in the gasp that threatened to burst from her lips.

Because curled up in a perfect ringlet on the bottom of the small, innocent-looking cardboard box was a lock of crimson hair that they were all familiar with.

* * *

><p>Things were set into motion the second everyone was able to form a coherent thought.<p>

Gibbs closed the box and stood, picking it up and heading for the elevator. The team followed close behind, and the ride down to Abby's was silent, the air thick with silence as everyone tried to process just what was going on.

Director Shepard had not shown up for work today.

Director Shepard's hair was curled up in the box in Gibbs' arms.

Director Shepard was most likely in danger.

Gibbs' facial expression hadn't changed expect for the very first moment he'd seen the hair. For that first few seconds, his blue eyes had widened, and something a hell of a lot like fear had flickered through the cobalt irises before they'd shut down, and he'd turned back into his emotionless self.

The elevator reached Abby's lab and they all stepped off, letting Gibbs' walk in first. The heavy metal music was blaring, and the first thing Gibbs did was smack it off, causing Abby to turn from her computers and protest. But the words died on her lips when she encountered the four of them in her lab, and her green eyes turned serious as she looked between them.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice roughening when none of them answered her question. Her eyes darkened, and she spoke louder. "Why are you all in my lab and not speaking to me? And Gibbs- why do you have that box?"

"I need you to run a hair sample," he said simply, and her confusion grew.

"What?" she asked finally, shaking her head and looking at Gibbs, waiting for more of an explanation than that. "That's all you have to say?"

"I need you," he said slower, setting the box down on the table, and beginning to open it. "To run a hair sample."

With that he opened the box, and Abby's loud, shocked gasp filled the otherwise silent room.

"Oh my God…"

"Just run it Abby," Gibbs said, his voice low and gruff, and she nodded silently. She slipped on the gloves, and with extreme care, she took the taped ringlet out of the box. She selected one strand of blood-red hair and placed it in a capsule to place in the mass spectrometer, and her eyes widened as she assessed the hair further.

"There's dried blood on the underside of this," she said, turning over the hair to show the darker splashes. "And it looks like there's a single fingerprint on the tape."

"Planned," Gibbs said, his arms folding over his chest as he continued to stare at the drops of blood on the curl of hair. "I'm sure you'll find no other fingerprints in and on the entire thing, except for the mail techs on the outside."

"They're setting us up," Tony commented, his hazel eyes clear of all teasing, their color dark and serious. All of his playful banter from only moments before had disappeared; the NCIS agent was in control, and for once, there was no humor he could find in this situation.

"They are baiting us to come and find her," Ziva added, her voice slightly subdued. She thought she had left this kind of trickery behind in Israel.

"They know we'll follow the clues," Tim said, his face drawn as he looked at the tape, the single fingerprint highlighted against it. He may not have the closest relationship with the Director, but he respected her, and he would do anything he could to bring her back.

"They've set up a trap," Gibbs concluded, raising his gaze to his team, the blue of his eyes as hard as ice. His words left no room for doubt, and the room collectively took a breath in as they waited for his next words to plan their course of action. "And we have to follow it."

"It is the only way to get her back," Ziva said, her voice soft but strong as she met Gibbs' gaze, her shoulders set.

"We don't know it's her yet," Abby interjected quietly, but they all knew her hope was a lost cause, and even her voice wasn't unwavering. There was no way it was not Jenny.

Everyone swallowed heavily except for Gibbs, whose spine remained ramrod straight, his hands curled into fists and shoved deep in his pockets, and with his gaze locked onto the screen, waiting for the results that would cement his suspicions.

He didn't have any doubts though.

The tell-tale ding came moments later, and although they were expecting it, they all jumped anyway at the loud sound. Abby took a deep breath before clicking the proper buttons that opened it, and there was no real shock when the picture appeared on the forensic scientist's computer screen. There was only muted disappointment that their theory had been correct.

Because the DNA in the hair and blood belonged to the Director of NCIS, Jennifer Shepard.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I honestly was not expecting such great feedback- major thanks to anyone that left a review. This story is going to get dark- I'm warning you now. Still a T rating, but don't hold me to that as we progress forward.

This takes place within season four; sometime after 'Skeletons' and before 'Trojan Horse'.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline.

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><p>The air was grim as they waited for Gibbs to bark the orders.<p>

"David, Dinozzo, go to her house, check for evidence. McGee, phone records. Abby, run that print," Gibbs said, his voice harsh as he turned and stormed out of the lab. The four adults left in the room exchanged wary glances, and then Tony and Ziva left, leaving Tim and Abby alone.

"You're gonna find her...right Tim?" Abby asked, her voice small as her big green eyes looked at him. He swallowed, and pulled her into a hug, unable to look into her eyes as he spoke, because he didn't want to lie to her.

"It's our job, Abby," he answered instead, and she pulled away, her eyes darkened.

"That's not what I asked," she replied, and he sighed, his shoulders sagged as he looked over her head, not meeting her intense gaze.

"That's my answer," he said, before turning and leaving the lab. Feeling less than satisifed and more upset than before, Abby turned to her monitors, beginning to run the fingerprint.

She could only hope their investigative skills could bring the Director home, unharmed.

* * *

><p>The first place Gibbs went was Autopsy.<p>

Ducky was doing inventory, items spread out over the metal table, a clipboard in his hand as he rattled off the items to Palmer. His assistant was looking frazzled as he tried to keep up with the good doctor, and if Gibbs hadn't been in such a bad mood, he would have made a comment.

"Duck."

"Rubber gloves, cotton swabs, tweezers..."

"Duck."

"Specimen jars, plastic screens..."

"Duck!"

At last Ducky heard him and stopped reading the list, looking up at him over his glasses, a slight smile crossing his face when he looked at him. Then he caught onto his mood, and set down the clipboard, motioning for Palmer to go. The scared-looking assistant left quickly, glad to get out of the room with Gibbs in it.

"Jethro?" Ducky asked, concern and curiosity blending in his kind eyes as he waited for an explanation.

"Jen's been kidnapped," Gibbs informed, watching as the doctor's jaw dropped and shock filled his face. The last time she'd been kidnapped, she'd made it out alive- thanks to Gibbs' sniper skills.

"How...?"

"Got a package; lock of her hair inside speckled with blood. Only one fingerprint, on the tape holdin' the hair together," he said, cutting off the ME's question. "Looks set-up. Know what they're doin'."

"How much blood?" Ducky asked, his face pale, but in control. This was not the time to let emotions get in the way; they needed to find her, and as quickly as possible.

"Few drops; hard to tell with her hair color," Gibbs answered, and Ducky nodded sharply, his brow furrowing.

"Abigail has the hair?" he asked, and Gibbs nodded. "Have her test the blood; it will tell if she's been drugged or poisoned. Actually, I'll go up- I may be of some use."

That's when Gibbs remembered Ducky's degree in pyschological profiling, and he was reminded of everything he'd missed by going to Mexico. And so he tightened his fists, shoving them deeper into his pockets.

"What is the rest of the team doing?" Ducky asked, and Gibbs pushed away all thoughts except finding Jen.

"DiNozzo, David scopin' out her house; McGee's on phone records," he answered, and Ducky nodded.

"And you?" he asked, pushing slightly. Irritation flashed through Gibbs, but he brushed it away, refocusing.

"Goin' up to her office; see if there're any clues," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. Ducky frowned, and Gibbs couldn't help wondering why.

"Jethro, are you feeling anything over this?" Ducky asked, and Gibbs immediately made his face go blank. He was not getting into this now.

"Not the time, Duck," he answered, and Ducky's face darkened with anger.

"When do you suggest I ask, then, Jethro?" he asked, his voice hard. "If you bring her in in a body bag? If you find her body, beaten?"

Gibbs clenched his fists tighter, trying to block out the images the words elicited. Jen, bleeding on the floor of a warehouse. Jen, her face pale and lifeless. Jen, laying in a black bodybag, her hair the only part of her with any color left...

He shuddered, trying to make them disappear. God, he had to save her.

"I can't think about this now, Duck," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I can't think about not finding her in time. Hurts too much."

He left then, not able to look at Ducky and not see him doing Jen's Autopsy. He escaped to the silence of the elevator and flicked the switch, sinking to a squat and holding his head in his hands.

Just as he composed himself enough to go back to his job, his cell rang. He pulled it out, not looking at the caller ID and holding it to his ear, his heart in his throat as he had to stop himself from crossing his fingers that he'd hear a familiar voice.

"Jen?"

"No, Jethro, it's Hollis," the feminine voice that was indeed familiar said, and his heart sank to his toes. That was not who he'd wanted to hear. "Why would it be Jenny?"

"I'm at work, what do you want Hollis?" he asked harshly, not even caring if he hurt her feelings.

"I was just calling to see how you were," she answered, her voice taking a bitter edge. "I guess I shouldn't have bothered.

"No, you shouldn't have," he replied before shutting the phone, shoving it back in his pocket and restarting the elevator.

Maybe there'd be a clue in Jen's office.

* * *

><p>Abby was looking at the computer screen blankly when Ducky walked in, and when he touched her shoulder gently, she jumped, barely holding in the gasp.<p>

"I didn't even hear you come in," she said, a hand over her chest as she regulated her breathing.

"I'm sorry, Abigail," he apologized softly, looking over her shoulder at her tests. "Still running the fingerprint?"

"I haven't gotten a hit yet; I'm running it through every single database I have," she answered, sighing heavily.

"Do you mind if I look at the hair?" he asked, and she shook her head as he grabbed a pair of rubber gloves. "I need you to run some tests on the blood; it will tell us if she was drugged or poisoned prior to her kidnapping."

"Of course," Abby said, and with his help picked out the most-saturated hairs, putting them in a capsule before dropping it into the mass spectrometer. Ducky looked through the rest of the hair with care, pulling out a single blonde hair from the mass of red.

"Abigail, could you run a DNA test on this as well?" he asked, and she nodded, doing the same thing for the blonde hair and dropping it in. Just as she turned around her computer dinged, and she hurried to the monitor, bringing up a picture for the DNA match on the fingerprint.

"Richard Harnlon. Sexual predator, stalker, and has been convicted of robbery and arson," Abby read, her eyes widening at what that meant. "If this guy has Jenny..."

"We must find her quickly," Ducky finished, and Abby swallowed. Neither said what they were both thinking.

If she was even at the point to still be found.

* * *

><p>Tony and Ziva were silent for once as they drove to the Director's house.<p>

Tony's arms were thick with tension as he gripped the steering wheel, his hazel eyes fixated on the road ahead of him as he guided the car through the heavy traffic of Georgetown. Ziva sat silently in the passenger seat, her mouth a firm, thin line and her chocolate brown eyes hard as rock as she swam within her own thoughts.

They arrived at the house, and upon seeing the door swinging in the wind, they drew their guns and stalked forward. When they reached the front door, Tony motioned for Ziva to go first, and she raised her gun, moving forward. Pushing the door all the way open, she stopped at the sight in the front entryway.

Laying in a pool of dried blood was a man in his late thirties, his blue eyes open and unseeing, a bullet wound in the center of his chest surrounded by dried blood. A few feet from his body was a Glock, and three bullet casings were near the area.

Ziva recognized the Glock, and her heart went to her throat.

"That is Jenny's personal weapon," she stated quietly, her eyes locked on the gun. Tony's eyes widened, and he looked at her before looking back at the weapon.

"She fought."

"But she clearly did not win," Ziva said, and the air grew thick between them.

This only complicated everything.

* * *

><p>Jenny awoke to searing pain in her left shoulder.<p>

Everything was black; it took her a minute to realize that she was blindfolded. The dry cottony taste in her mouth told her she was also gagged, and she pulled on her hands experimentally. Tied.

So, she was blindfolded, gagged, tied at the wrists and ankles, and her shoulder was in so much pain it hurt to even think straight, even though her agent side told her that that was exactly what she needed to be doing at that moment.

Well fuck.

Suddenly, the blackness was gone as her blindfold was ripped off, and she was hit with blinding flourescent lights that hurt her sensitive eyes. She was pulled roughly into a sitting position by strange, harsh hands, her shoulder protesting the motion so much she screamed, but it was caught in the gag, only a muffled sound coming out.

"Guess that gag was a good thing, Red," a deep voice said in her ear, the breath warm and disgusting, making the hair on the back of her neck tingle, and she flinched away, still blinded by the lights. A heavy hand pressed into the shoulder that hurt like hell, and she screamed again, the pain so intense she saw white, her head feeling light and dizzy.

That was the last thing she remembered before she passed out again.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: You guys are seriously awesome-everyone that's left a review, you've made me smile. I'm working diligently to update as much as I can before school starts this coming Wednesday- I've kind of been spoiling you all, being able to update so frequently. So, I'm trying to write/post as much as possible before I start senior year, because I have no idea what my updating schedule is going to be once I'm back in school. I hoping for once a week, especially once I finish Change of Plans, which only has three chapters left. Then I'll only be writing this story and 'Torn', and hopefully I won't leave you all hanging for updates for too long. Thank you for your patience, it's much appreciated :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline.

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><p>He hadn't expected walking into her office to hurt.<p>

It smelled like her, and he grit his teeth to keep the emotion at bay. Her perfume, the one that smelled like champagne and strawberries and vanilla, drifted in the air, and if he closed his eyes, it was like she was still there, sitting behind her desk or standing at the liquor cabinet or disappeared into her bathroom.

Opening his eyes, he gazed around, looking for anything out of place or out of the ordinary.

Her desk was pristine, not a pen out a place, and he ran his fingers over the wood, able to feel her in this office- her presence was so firmly ingrained in it that if she were to ever leave it, the person following in her footsteps would never truly be able to hold the office. It symbolized Jen to him too much.

He walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a tumbler and a bottle of bourbon, pouring himself a healthy measure. He shouldn't be drinking at work, let alone when they needed to find Jen. But ne needed the liquid courage, because there was no other way to distract himself. He relished the burn of his esophagus as the alcohol made its way down, warming his stomach and clearing his head momentarily.

Nothing looked different in her office than on any other given day- aside from the fact that she wasn't there.

Had it really only been a few days ago that they'd been in this room, working out arrangements for Paula's funeral? Only a few weeks ago that they'd stood here with Hollis, judgment in Jenny's eyes as she'd watched them?

He closed his eyes, a pain in the center of his chest intensifying at how cold her green eyes looked whenever she saw him and Hollis together. All the warmth left her features at the sight of the Army CID Lieutenant Colonel, and her eyes darkened to shards of jade.

And yet he continued to parade the blonde woman in front of her, baiting her, wanting to see how far before she snapped.

He swallowed hard, trying to push the emotion deep down, struggling to raise the steel barrier around his scarred, aching heart and the front he had to put up to save Jen.

Because he would save her. He would not fail her like he had Shannon and Kelly.

He couldn't afford to lose her too.

* * *

><p>Ducky and Abby were merely waiting silently as the tests were run on the single blonde hair, and on Jenny's blood. They both jumped at the ding, and Abby brought up the results on her monitor.<p>

"She's been poisoned with chloroform," Ducky said after reading the results, anger boiling in his blood. "She never had a chance."

"Is it serious?" Abby asked, fear leaking into her voice.

"It's quite a large dose, and she doesn't have a very large frame," Ducky replied, frowning. "She's most likely awake by now, by she's most likely trembling, unable to control her muscles, and I'm worried about her liver and kidneys- they could have been affected by the poison."

His words met silence, and Abby's green eyes were wide as she listened.

"We can only hope the dose wasn't too strong to kill her- if it wasn't, I can imagine that she's quite disoriented."

Ducky stopped, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.

"She needs medical attention, and fast. If there's a chance that she's injured, or bleeding, that could increase the effect of the poison, because she'll have a lower blood level," he said, pacing as he continued to think, Abby watching silently as she waited for her other test to have results.

"Ducky?" Abby asked, and he stopped, looking at her.

"Yes, Abigail?" he asked, tilting his head slightly at her, encouraging her to speak. She bit her lip, her green eyes large and innocent, and his heart ached at how young she looked in that moment.

"Why would someone kidnap the Director?" she asked, linking her hands in front of her and squeezing tightly, her knuckles turning white. "Why would someone want to hurt her?"

"It may not be her that they want to hurt, necessarily," Ducky answered, wording himself carefully. "It could be the agency."

"Or Gibbs," Abby said, shrugging slightly. "I mean they used to be partners."

"That's right- they used to be partners," Ducky repeated, his eyes widening. "I wonder..."

"What, Ducky?" Abby asked, watching as the wheels turned furiously in his head.

"I wonder if this is connected to an old case. I'll ask Jethro," Ducky said, and Abby nodded, her teeth sinking further into her lip.

"He has to find her, Ducky," Abby said, her voice quiet but determined. "Before it's too late."

Ducky couldn't say anything to the girl- he was praying too hard that her words were right.

* * *

><p>Tony and Ziva called Gibbs, who said he'd be there with Ducky as soon as possible, and then they carefully scoped out the rest of the house.<p>

Everything was undisturbed except for the front hall, and the entryway to her study.

"There is a bullet lodged here," Ziva said, looking at the wooden doorway of the study. Sure enough, there was a bullet lodged in the wood, and they took notice of it for when Gibbs arrived.

"That's two bullets; one in the vic and this one in the doorway. Where's the third one?" Tony asked, referring to the three casings they'd found. They searched for the next ten minutes, but found nothing.

"She was shot," Ziva concluded when they came up with nothing, and her words met heavy silence. She looked again at the casings, noticing how one was different than the other two. "She shot the man with the Glock. Her attacks shot twice- once in the doorway, the other into her."

"Is she still alive?" Tony asked after a few minutes, his voice roughened as he squatted next to her.

"There is minimal blood loss here- I would guess she was shot in the shoulder, and the bullet is lodged in her scalpula. She is in excrutiating pain, and will need the bullet to be removed or it will become infected. We do not have much time," she answered, her chocolate brown eyes shaded with apprehension and anger. "They will most likely be using that wound as a way of torture- she will not last long."

Tony didn't say anything- he couldn't.

They needed to find her, and fast.

* * *

><p>In the bullpen, Tim was searching through Director Shepard's phone records.<p>

While he knew it was to save her, and he had Gibbs' permission, it still felt wrong, invading her privacy like this. Funny, how when they did this to a victim or criminal, it didn't feel wrong. But with his boss, his skin was crawling as he typed.

There were calls from her phone company, and a gardening company, and many calls from politicans and SecNav and other men and women of importance. He knew he'd have to check into each of the politicans because Gibbs would be suspicious of all of them, he bypassed them to begin with, noticing calls every so often from a doctor, Todd Gelfand. Frowning, Tim thought back to Gibbs' coma- hadn't that been the name of his doctor?

But then a series of calls caught his attention, and he pushed off his musings and focused on that, bringing up the collection of calls.

Every night at eleven fifty seven for the past week, there had been a call to her cell from the same number. He frowned, typing faster as he dug into the number. Tracing it, his blood chilled when he read the address from which the calls had been made.

Right in front of her house.

* * *

><p>Abby was waiting for the results on the blonde hair that had been mixed in with Director Shepard's, tapping her fingers on the tabletop as she stared blankly into space.<p>

The second that the alarm went off, she started typing, pulling up the results.

She'd barely opened it when her phone went off, and she put it to her ear immediately.

"Scuito," she said, no formalities.

"Sending you crime scene photos from the Director's house, run the vic," Tony's voice said, and after a brief confirmation she hung up, pulling up the incoming email from Tony. A blonde man lay in a pool of his own blood, and she took one look at the face and paled.

The man who had been shot in the Director's house was the man whose hair had been mixed in with her crimson curls.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm letting you all know that this is one of those stories that's like a spiral, instead of a straight line. You won't know the exact answer until the very end. Just so you all know.

I now have a tumblr account; it's listed as my homepage if you'd like to check it out. Feel free to message me there about any of my stories, or if you'd just like to get to know me more. While I'm not a particular fan of myself, there are people that think I'm pretty cool- I have no idea how they deal with me. Seriously.

The song for this chapter is 'Set The Fire To The Third Bar' by Snow Patrol ft. Martha Wainwright. The video is awesome, and so is the song.

I'm sorry it's so freaking short. Just…yeah, not happy tonight. At least writing this helped a little. (I know someone is going to freak out. I'm fine, I promise. Text me later, if you get the chance, if you're still worried after you read this- and I know you most likely will be *rolls eyes* I'm fine.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline.

* * *

><p>At the crime scene, Gibbs steeled himself, because he knew he needed to check the upstairs, and he wouldn't allow anyone else from the team to do it. Ziva was the best choice, being both a woman and somewhat close to Jenny, but he wouldn't let it happen.<p>

He was going to torture himself a little bit more.

He climbed the stairs, eyes peeled for anything out of place. When he reached the door that he knew was her bedroom, he took a deep breath, finding the door open.

Her slacks were on the floor, like she'd been in the midst of changing. Her heels were just in front of the pants, one knocked over, and he swallowed. Her button-up blue blouse was in a puddle a few feet from the pants, in the direction of the bathroom.

Her room smelled so much like her it hurt.

He was staring at the carpet, trying to control himself when he saw the heavy-set footprints in her thick weaved carpet, and he photographed them, judging them to be about a size twelve set of steel toed boots. That was all he noticed; his best guess was that she'd been surprised in the bedroom, and had been brought downstairs.

She must have had her Glock on her; he felt a momentary flash of pride for Jen's agent side, but that was quickly pushed aside by the worry of what these men had done to her.

He descended the stairs, his heart heavy.

"Boss, we found a USB drive on the dead guy," Tony said as soon as he reached the front hall again, his hazel eyes dark.

"Take it back to Abby, now. Ziva, stay and wait for Ducky. Tony, let's go," Gibbs said, and the two agents nodded. Tony turned and headed for the sedan, and Gibbs followed. The younger man made no comment about the speed of his driving, or how he lacked even more control than usual. He merely gripped his seat tighter, the evidence bag with the black USB drive clutched in his hand.

They made it back to the agency in record time, and were in Abby's lab before either could blink.

"Gibbs, the man that was shot-"

"Abby, we have a USB drive. Find out what's on it," Gibbs interrupted, and for once Abby immediately stopped talking and plugged it in, sorting through it.

"There's a video," she said, and all their eyes widened.

"Play it," Gibbs said, and Abby did so immediately, putting it up on the larger screen.

"Well hello, Agent Gibbs. It has been a long time," a thick Russian-accented voice said, the feminineness of it making Gibbs' blood run cold. "I have been having a good time with your redheaded friend."

The camera suddenly cut to Jenny, who wasn't looking at the camera, her face turned down. Her shoulder was bloodied and out of place, evidence of the gunshot wound, and her hands were behind her back, most likely tied. A shadowy figure immerged behind her and shoved her upright, causing her eyes to shoot open in pain, the green irises dark with emotion.

She looked at the camera, and she looked so pale and fragile and scared that Gibbs' heart broke for her.

"Your friend is alive- for now," the female voice said, cold and cruel, and Gibbs had to resist the urge to shudder. "She will not be this way for long."

The camera zoomed in closer to Jenny, and Gibbs swallowed at how tragic and beautiful and frightened she looked. She flinched when a thin, decidedly female hand brushed against her good shoulder, making its way over to the injured one. Gibbs tensed when Jenny screamed, but no sound made it through the gag. Abby gasped beside him, her hands up to her face and tears in her eyes. Tony had one hand on Abby's shoulder, his face tinged with disgust for what he was watching.

"I'm having so much fun, Agent Gibbs. Won't you come and join us?"

The camera zoomed even closer to Jenny's face, and she looked up, her eyes staring back at him.

And while she didn't say a single word, her eyes spoke volumes. They pleaded with him, her message loud and clear.

_Please save me._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm so surprised with the reactions/interest in this story. Thanks so much for commenting! School has started, and so it's hard for me to find time to update. I do only have two WIP stories now, but my time is being sucked up by marching band. I appreciate you guys staying by me, and hopefully I'll be able to finish this story in a reasonable amount of time. You're all awesome!

Today being 9/11, I'd like to take the time to remember everyone that was affected by the attacks. New York is my home state, and we were all hit hard by the tragedy. Those firefighters that went in as first responders hold a special place in my heart- I knew one of the men that was killed as he reached the upper floors of the World Trade Center. He's my own personal hero. The fire department down the street from my house received two pieces of steel from the Twin Towers, and built a memorial with them. There was a service this afternoon, and fire trucks from departments all over the state came to see the memorial. It shows that while those terrorists took something from us, they couldn't take some things- faith and unity.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

><p>"Run every test possible on that video," Gibbs said through gritted teeth, his fists shaking at his sides. Abby nodded, her green eyes rimmed with tears. "Do it now."<p>

"I will, Gibbs," Abby promised, and he tried to calm himself down enough so that he didn't upset Abby more. "Gibbs, the man that was killed in Jenny's study- one of his blond hairs was mixed in with Jenny's, from the ringlet that was in the box."

"How's that possible?" Gibbs asked, frowning as Abby pulled the results up.

"My guess? Since this video was after Jenny was kidnapped, and after this guy was murdered, I'm guessing that they pulled one of his hairs, trimmed it to the same length as the length they cut the Director's, and added it to the bundle they sent you. Then, they recorded the video, and someone slipped back in before it was realized that the Director was missing to place the USB drive in the guy's pocket. Jenny killing him was an accident, and so they needed to clean it up someone," Abby replied, the tears leaving her voice and determination entering it.

"They're trying to lead us in circles," Tony said, folding his arms over his chest and frowning.

"They thought it would take longer to connect the two," Gibbs said, rubbing a hand down his face. "Abs, start the tests on the video, see if you can get us anything."

"Of course," Abby said, nodding. She turned back to her computer, and Gibbs and Tony headed back up to the bullpen, where Tim was feverishly typing.

"Boss," he said when the two entered the bullpen, looking up. "I've been going through the Director's phone records."

"Get anything?" Gibbs asked, coming to stand behind him and look over his shoulder at what he was typing. Tim nodded, pulling up the records.

"Every night at eleven fifty seven for the past week, she's received a call from the same number," Tim told him, and Gibbs frowned, wondering why Jen hadn't mentioned anything to him. "I looked into the number, and it's a disposable cell phone."

"Dead end," Tony said, and Gibbs straightened, angry.

"Most of the time, yes. But not this time," Tim said, and both hazel and cobalt eyes widened. "I was able to get the serial number through the phone company, since it was a repeat call at the same time and therefore causes a red flag to be risen."

"So?" Tony asked, irritated that Tim hadn't gotten to the point yet.

"So, I tracked the serial number to where it was sold, and got the date and time it was sold from the store. They sent me video feed of the camera over the register for a ten minute block around the time it was apparently bought," Tim said, and Gibbs laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder briefly.

"Good work," he said. "Get it down to Abby's; do an analysis of it while she goes over the video from the USB drive."

"On it boss," Tim said, standing and heading down to the lab while Tony and Gibbs worked with the information Abby had emailed to Tony.

The man who appeared to be holding Jenny with the Russian woman was a piece of work. Aggravated assault, rape, robbery, arson. They needed to get Jenny away from him, quickly.

She was in more danger as the seconds passed.

* * *

><p>Ducky arrived back in Autopsy with Jimmy, the body from Jennifer's house in a body bag on the metal slab.<p>

They quickly- and for once quietly- changed into scrubs, and then they began their external exam. Ducky noted the bullet hole that appeared to go directly through his heart- the Director always had been a good shot, even under pressure- and how that appeared to be the only wound, aside from post-mortem bruising from falling after the bullet entered his chest cavity.

"Doctor?" Jimmy said, catching the older ME's attention, examining the left hand of the man's hand. "There's a strange marking on the inside of his middle finger."

"Allow me to look, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, and Jimmy respectfully stepped aside, letting his mentor to look at the hand. "Well, that is rather curious."

Tattooed on the inside of the man's middle finger was an intricate pattern in black and red ink, spiraling down the entire finger, the lines curving and weaving together, ending in flourishes at the lowest knuckle, just above the palm.

"Do you know what it stands for?" Jimmy asked, and Ducky shook his head, but he had a thought- but he needed to confirm before he spoke aloud.

"We'll have to have Abigail look at it- she's our tattoo expert," the ME replied, straightening back up. His back groaned in the process, and he resisted the urge to frown as pain spiraled through his back.

"Doctor?" Jimmy asked, sounding almost hesitant. Ducky looked at him, motioning for him to continue, and the younger man swallowed before speaking again. "Do you think that Director Shepard is still alive?"

Ducky sighed, the weight of the answer to that question settling on his shoulders. He raised his gaze to his assistant's, a shield covering his emotions as his mouth opened and his words poured out.

"Mr. Palmer, we must have faith."

It hurt too much to consider what was vast looking like the truth.

* * *

><p>Ziva arrived back in the bullpen, throwing her backpack behind her desk and turning to Gibbs.<p>

"What was on the drive?" she demanded, her whiskey brown eyes glowing with urgency and distress, though her expression was controlled, a tight mask holding back her emotions.

"Video," Gibbs replied, his voice tight with repressed emotion.

"Of…?" Ziva asked, and one pointed look had her withholding her gasp as her hand covered her mouth, her guard dropping to the floor and shattering in an instant. She murmured fast words in Hebrew, her eyes closing and her hands dropping to clenched fists at her sides, shaking slightly.

Gibbs turned away, closing his eyes as he bit his lip so hard he felt he'd draw blood. It hurt, seeing Ziva so distressed.

He needed to fix this.

He turned around to try to find something to say to the Israeli, but found that Tony had already found his way over to his partner, and one of the Italian's large hands was wrapped around hers. She gripped it back strongly, her eyes still tightly shut and her lower lip pulled into her mouth, but as Tony's fingers weaved through hers, she found her lifeline.

Tony bent his head to whisper in Ziva's ear, his breath parting her dark curtain of hair, and Gibbs strained to hear the words.

"We'll find her, Zee. I won't stop until we bring her home."

Gibbs was once again astounded by how grown-up his Senior Field Agent had become after he'd gone to Mexico.

It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

* * *

><p>Ducky and Jimmy finished the autopsy and Ducky personally brought the report up to Jethro, who was in the squad room with Tony and Ziva, all three of whom were on their computers.<p>

"Jethro, I've finished the autopsy," Ducky said, placing the manila folder on his desk. "Director Shepard's Glock killed him, a bullet clean through his aorta. He didn't stand a chance."

"Nice shot," Tony murmured under his breath, but no one else made a comment. It was a nice shot- but for the wrong reasons.

"That all, Duck?" Gibbs asked tiredly, and Ducky contemplated his next words before deciding to speak his mind.

"Do you remember what the significance of a black and red tattoo on the middle finger, Jethro?" Ducky asked, and Gibbs' eyes flashed, their cobalt hardening to shards to glass.

"Why?" he asked, almost a snarl, and the tension within the bullpen rose a few degrees as Gibbs tensed, the tendons in his arms tightening.

"Our victim in autopsy as one," Ducky replied, and Gibbs' eyes widened before narrowing, darkening even further.

"We got out clean," he said under his breath, so that Ducky almost barely caught it. "I know we did."

Ducky waited, and then Gibbs stood, his tone clipped and angry, his hands fists at his sides.

"Decker. He's the only one who'd know other than-"

Gibbs broke off and he swallowed, and the bullpen became deathly silent. No one spoke while they waited for Gibbs to collect himself, and when he did finally continue his thought, his voice was a touch thicker, though no one commented.

"He's the only one who can help. I need him now."

It looked like a call to William Decker was going to be necessary. And fast.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm kind of making up my own ideas for the Russia Op, since we got minimal details in the show (and, I didn't get the details from somewhere else- they're all from my head, so if you believe they may be connected to something else…well, it's an accident). Hope no one minds.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Major thanks to those that left reviews last chapter! This is most likely going to be the last update for two to three weeks- school and band are piling up, so my writing is taking a backseat as senior year takes off. Hopefully once band is over in a few weeks I'll be able to write more, and I don't want to mark this as officially on hiatus, because things could change, but things are going to be slow. Thanks for sticking by me!

I'm involving Decker because of things based around the quote from Mike Franks in JD: _"Decker knew something you didn't." _He isn't dirty or a double agent- he's still retired- he just knows some things from the events before Jenny left that Gibbs does not.

Evelyn- we are making this road trip happen. Seriously. Because we're fabulous, and we'll be eighteen, and we have to meet someone super awesome (who knows who she is) because, well, I think she's fantastic :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

><p>William Decker was enjoying retirement- he had a beautiful girlfriend, a nice house, and he had no worries.<p>

Until he got a phone call at eight in the morning, pulling both him and Sasha from sleep.

"Yeah, Deck," he said, rubbing a hand down his face to dispel the sleep as he answered the phone, Sasha's blonde hair tickling his arm as she shared his pillow, her hand resting on the center of his chest, her eyes still closed as she tried to keep her grasp on slumber.

"Deck, it's Gibbs," was the clipped response he received, and Decker sat up, jostling Sasha as his eyes opened to alertness.

"Gibbs?" he asked, double-checking. It had been a long time since his former colleague had called him- and the tone suggested that it wasn't a pleasant social call. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Russia, '99," Gibbs replied, and Decker got the distinct impression that there was nothing pleasant about this phone call. Gibbs' words sent rocks into his stomach, and he swallowed, rubbing his fists into his dark eyes.

This was not rearing its head. It couldn't be happening. It just couldn't.

"That operation was a long time ago, Gibbs," Decker said, hesitation in his voice. He really did not want to be in the middle of this, not anymore. He was retired, for Christ's sake. "What could possibly-"

"Jen has been kidnapped," Gibbs interrupted, and Decker inhaled sharply. "And with her being Director, if this isn't related to the past, there is a chance other agency heads will start disappearing as well. If it is related to the past, I need to know everything, and now. Her chances grow slimmer and slimmer as the seconds pass. You know that, Deck."

Decker paused, swallowing again. Sasha was looking at him, a mix of concern and curiosity in her blue eyes, her blonde hair frizzy and falling in her face, and he didn't want her to hear what he had to say.

She was still so innocent.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his girlfriend's forehead, feeling her fingers brush over his briefly as he stood, leaving her in the bed as he padded, bare-chested and in blue plaid pajama pants, to the office across the hall from the bedroom. He shut the door and sat heavily in the straight-backed leather chair, leaning his head backward against the cool black fabric.

"Deck, we got out clean," Gibbs said after the other man gave a grunt of confirmation to speak, and Decker cleared his throat, sighing heavily before speaking words he'd sworn to keep away from the silver-haired agent.

"Two of us did," Decker corrected quietly, and the sharp intake of breath on the other line told Decker so much more than words ever could. "Jenny never told you?"

There was a static-filled silence, and Decker shook his head, running his hand down his face again as he remembered the complexity Gibbs and Shepard's relationship had put into everything they did in Europe- something that could have been avoided if the love hadn't blinded them from their missions.

"She left the next week," Gibbs admitted gruffly, clearing his throat loudly. Decker winced, his hands gripping the arm of his chair tightly as he heard the strong undercurrent of pain the former marine's voice. "I never…never suspected she hadn't made the kill. She never gave so much as a hint."

"She couldn't do it," Decker replied, his eyes remaining closed as he unveiled a truth he'd kept hidden for over seven years. "Svetlana Chernitskaya left Russia alive seven years ago as Natasha Lenkov."

"She has Jen," Gibbs said bluntly after a moment of shared silence, and Decker could hear the tension from the man, even though he was on the other side of the country, only a phone line connecting them. "Why do you know, Deck? Why couldn't she tell me? I was her partner."

"She was also your lover. She loved you too much to let you down," Decker said after a moment's pause, and the heart-stopping silence made him wince in regret at the words he'd spoken. "You meant too much to her as both a lover and a partner for her to disappoint you."

He was met with more silence.

Decker worried he'd overstepped- he didn't want to meddle with his friends' love lives, and with Jen in danger, those thoughts didn't need to be clouding Gibbs' head. He opened his mouth to take them back, to distract him with anything, when he was cut off.

The sharp click of the phone line was all he could hear before the dial tone began to resonate in his ear.

* * *

><p>"<em>She loved you too much to let you down."<em>

"_You meant too much to her as both a lover and a partner for her to disappoint you."_

Those two sentences thudded loudly in Gibbs' brain- they were the only things he could hear as he stood in the elevator, the emergency stop pulled, the lift plunged in soothing darkness. The call to Decker had helped narrow the suspect pool down to one- the cold Russian woman who had been on the video.

But it had brought up too many emotions for him to handle at the moment.

Why had Jen never told him about not killing Svetlana?

When he thought back to that week before she left, hindsight showed him all the things he had missed leading up to the moment she'd left. And it killed him to know that he hadn't been watching closely enough to know that something was off.

He cleared his throat, the sound loud in the empty, enclosed space of the elevator. Closing his eyes, he tried desperately to focus on what needed to be done to find Jen, and breathed in deeply through his nose, releasing it out his mouth. Slowly, his racing heart calmed, and when he opened his eyes again, the cobalt irises were steel.

His return to the bullpen was met with tense silence, all the team waiting for what his phone call had yielded.

"Boss?" Tony asked after a moment, looking at him with questions in his darkened hazel eyes.

"McGee, start a search on Svetlana Chernitskaya," Gibbs said, turning to the younger man. There was the momentary clicking of keys, and then McGee's disappointed sigh of breath.

"She dropped off the grid in '99, Gibbs," the younger agent said, and Gibbs nodded sharply.

"Try Natasha Lenkov."

More keys were hit, and then the info was on the plasma.

"Runs a successful import/export business. She's in the States," Tim said, and Gibbs stiffened slightly. "She's attending a conference in DC, but she isn't there today as a speaker."

"Is this who has the Director?" Ziva asked, her brown eyes hard flints of topaz, anger lining her frame.

"Check her recent purchases," Gibbs said, and Tim typed a few more keys, eyes widening.

"Payment to a Richard Tighe, the man found dead in the Director's house. It says here that the check was for some personal work he did for Ms. Lenkov," Tim said, and then Gibbs snapped.

"Find her. Now," he said, his tone clipped as he stormed out of the bullpen.

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence he left behind.

* * *

><p>Jenny awoke again, disoriented and hurting.<p>

There was no gag this time, but she didn't scream. The memories of hands pressing into her wounded shoulder sent a shudder of reflexive pain throughout her body, and the thought alone kept her silent. Struggling slightly, she lifted her head to look around herself.

She was in some kind of a warehouse, surrounded by cement walls and a high ceiling, rafters far above her. The windows were located high in the walls, and she could see no doors around her. Her feet were still bound, but her hands were free now.

But they were shaking so much that she couldn't use them very much. She could barely control them- the tremors that ran through them were so violent it felt like her entire body was quaking from the force of them.

She was freezing.

Blood was still leaking slowly from the bullet wound in her shoulder, and she knew the bullet was still in her body; the pain that pierced her as she moved was so horrible she grit her teeth to ensure that she wouldn't release a sound. She bit her lip, her teeth sinking so far into her bottom lip that she tasted the metallic tang of blood on her tongue.

"I see you are awake."

Jenny's eyes struggled their way back open at the thick, feminine Russian voice that pushed their way through the fog that was clouding her brain again.

"Oh, you must stay away," the voice said again, and Jenny's eyes slowly focused on the voice, matching it to a blonde woman in front of her.

"Richard and I are going to have so much fun with you," the woman said, and horror struck Jenny as she recognized the woman. No, it couldn't be.

But it was.

Svetlana Chernitskaya stood in front of her, eyes frosty with distain as she gazed at the redheaded woman.

"Red, you're in for a fun ride," a low male voice said, sending shudders up her spine as the man she recognized from her abduction at her house coming towards her from behind Svetlana, his eyes gleaming horridly in the low lighting provided by the single overhead light situated just next to her bed.

She tried to struggle as he gagged her again, but she was so weak and she hurt so much, everywhere. The fight was slowly draining from her, and she closed her eyes as pain radiated from her bullet wound as thick, rough fingers probed the wound.

Tears gathered behind her eyelids as she began to give up the struggle and let unconsciousness flood her mind.

She was losing hope by the second.

Would help ever come?

Or more accurately-

Would Jethro ever come?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews! I've decided this story is going to be ending at 13 chapters. Then I will only be writing 'Torn' and hopefully not leaving you hanging for chapters, as everything is planned out.

This story does not have the ending you all might be expecting from me. To quote Kari-Kateora, "I'm kind of tired of happy endings".

The Tony and Ziva scene is based slightly on the scene from 'Swan Song', in the elevator. Because I do like their partnership, a lot, I'm just not a huge fan of romance.

This chapter was a bitch to write. Holy crap.

Disclaimer: I only own the plot.

* * *

><p>Tim continued to sift through the data on Natasha Lenkov, his head pounding as he stared at the computer screen, trying to find the detail that would find Director Shepard.<p>

Natasha Lenkov had appeared in '99; right at the time that Svetlana Chernitskaya had disappeared. Natasha wasn't married, though there were rumors of a lover that she'd lost.

She was speaking at a local conference, and Tim was desperately trying to find out where she was currently, as she wasn't speaking at the conference this morning, and she wasn't signed in on their electronic register. She wasn't at her hotel- and Tim knew wherever she was, she had the Director.

He needed to find her.

After a time of trying to find something amidst the information he had, he decided to take the elevator down to Abby's to analyze the video with her.

He hadn't seen it yet; the idea of seeing the Director vulnerable and trapped hurt too much. But to find her he'd have to, so as the lift descended, he pressed the emergency stop button, pulling out a page from Gibbs' book. As the metal box plunged into darkness, he closed his eyes, the blackness encompassing all of his senses.

He gripped the metal bar at waist-height in his hands, the cool metal tingling against his warm palms as he grasped it, gritting his teeth.

Steel. He was steel. He was like the metal bar in his hands; strong, unyielding, cold.

He would not break.

Starting the elevator again after opening his eyes, he shoved his fists into his pockets as the door opened and he stepped out. He kept his mantra going in his head as he reached Abby's lab and took a deep breath before walking into the uncharacteristically-silent lab.

He would not break.

* * *

><p>Tony found Ziva in the corner by the bathrooms, bracing her hands against a wall with her eyes closed, tension in her face.<p>

He laid one hand gently on her shoulder, and she jumped minutely, turning her head to see who it was. When she saw that it was him, she let her head drop back to its previous position, her eyes closing again as she tried not to let the tears that he'd seen glistening fall.

He'd never seen her cry; and he didn't want to now.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, trying to convey support without being overbearing. She trembled beneath his hand, her shoulder shaking as she tried to keep up the concrete barriers she normally did. She was putting in a huge effort, but he worried it was for naught.

Because he wasn't so sure she was going to be able to keep those heavy barriers in place.

"Ziva," he said, but he didn't say any more than that single syllable, because he just couldn't. There was too much that couldn't be said, that couldn't be expressed, that her name said it all. It had to.

"I cannot do this anymore," she said, her voice so soft he almost didn't hear her. But the choked words reached his ears and his hand tightened on her shoulder involuntarily as he closed his eyes, unable to look at the sorrow lining her face any longer.

Because the sorrow that creased her face and burdened her eyes made his heart ache in a way he never wanted to feel again.

"I know, Ziva," he said, and saying her name kept him anchored, kept him sane.

The connection he had with her was so different from the one he had with Jeanne. And while part of him did want to call the woman he'd fallen in love with in recent weeks, to hear her voice and hear those three words that mattered so much to her, helping Ziva mattered more in his mind.

Because Ziva was family.

She turned to him, topaz eyes burning as she swallowed, her composure slipped so far she was grasping at straws.

He opened his arms and she stepped into them, her head resting on his shoulder as his hands linked at her lower back, allowing her to gain strength from the embrace. She shuddered slightly, and his arms tightened around her unconsciously, hating her distress.

He didn't know how long they stood there; he only knew that when she pulled away, her face betraying nothing, his shirt was damp.

* * *

><p>Gibbs was walking back into the now-empty bullpen with a new cup of much-needed coffee when she stepped off the elevator.<p>

"What are you doing here Hollis?" he asked, exhausted, as the blonde walked up to his desk, dressed in casual clothes and her hair down and straight. She looked nice- but it hurt him to notice that. Because somewhere, Jen was suffering, and he was noticing that Hollis looked nice.

"Checking on you," she answered simply, her arms folded over her chest as her blue eyes studied him intently, her face betraying nothing.

"Why?" he asked, his face looking lined and worn and unreadable, and something in her eyes shifted, though to what he couldn't name. "Already told you not to worry."

"Didn't stop me, did it?" she asked, her voice tinted with something a little like desperation, and he ran his hand down his face, closing his eyes against the image of her face. He just couldn't do this right now.

"Hollis, I need you to leave now," he said, looking up at her, his blue eyes devoid of any emotion. She flinched almost unnoticeably, her blue eyes registering shock, and he shoved down any feelings of remorse he felt when he saw her face. "We're in the middle of a case, and…"

"Boss, we get anything on the Direc-" Tony stopped talking when he caught sight of Hollis, but it was too late. The blonde continued the statement after Tony trailed off, her face creased with worry.

"You don't know where Director Shepard is?" she asked, looking between Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva, who walked up behind Tony, her tanned face darkened and melancholy. "Is that the case you're working?"

"Yes," Gibbs replied, his voice clipped. "And we'd get more work done if you weren't here."

"Fine," Hollis said after a moment of silent argument with Gibbs, but while her voice was hard, her eyes were full of hurt and sadness. She spun on her heel and walked away without another word, leaving a heavy, awkward silence behind in the bullpen.

"I'm guessing we've got nothing new?" Tony asked, and Gibbs shook his head curtly, the only answer Tony needed.

"I will go check with Abby," Ziva said quietly and left the bullpen without another word, leaving behind the two men who seemed to be in a silent conversation with their eyes.

Tony had never seen his boss look so empty.

* * *

><p>Abby and Tim were working on analyzing the video together when Ziva walked in, the two working flawlessly to decode anything they could from the minute and a half long video feed.<p>

"Have you found anything on the Director's location?" she asked, her voice hollow as she stepped further into the room but kept her distance from her coworkers, something that went unnoticed by the other two.

"Still working on it," Abby said, her voice tight as she sifted through line after line of code. Tim's reply was similar, and Ziva closed her eyes briefly, recollecting herself.

"You guys find anything?" Tim asked, though he knew the question was futile. If she was asking them if they'd found anything, then she had nothing.

"No," Ziva replied, and both Abby and Tim swallowed; Tim brushed his fingers discreetly over the back of Abby's pale hand as they typed, the motion subtle, but it spoke volumes to Ziva.

Ziva stood and watched for a short while, and Tony and Gibbs found their way down to the lab as well, nodding silently to the Israeli as they came to watch the computer geniuses work their magic. Tony kept one hand on Ziva's back, giving her strength, and she silently thanked him with a few glances backwards, which he pretended not to see, though she knew he did.

They'd been standing for about ten minutes when the typing from Abby became more furious, and Ziva's hand clutched the metal lab table even more tightly than she had been before.

Then Abby sat back, a few lines on her computer screen highlighted, and she took a deep breath, looking at Tim.

"I think I found her."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews! I know my words in my last A/N scared you, but my ending is not the one you're all thinking, I promise.

For my Jewish readers, as Yom Kippur is observed know you guys are in my thoughts!

I don't know who watched 'The Penelope Papers', but I thought the episode was fantastic. Penny is awesome :)

I know this chapter is short- but it's effective. I promise.

Disclaimer: I only own the plot.

* * *

><p>"Where?" Gibbs asked after there was a moment of stunned silence, clearing his throat as he looked at Abby.<p>

She typed the coordinates into her computer, and the computer narrowed its way down to a set of five warehouses, all looking abandoned. They were arranged in two rows, with the final building at the top.

"Warehouse," Abby said, scrawling down the address on a sticky note and shoving it at Gibbs. "Go."

He nodded shortly before beckoning for the team to follow, which they did so immediately.

"Boss, the plan?" Tony asked, his tone clipped as they stood in the elevator, tension vibrating in the air around them.

"Go in. Find her," Gibbs replied, his shoulders tight as he shoved his fists in his pockets.

"And Natasha?" Tim asked, his arms folded over his chest.

"She's mine."

No one countered his answer.

* * *

><p>Jenny awoke to a prodding of her shoulder, causing intense pain to flare throughout her body.<p>

"C'mon Red, don't fall asleep on me again," a deep, rough male voice said, and she flinched, keeping her eyes closed. There was a low growl, and a large hand gripped her injured shoulder, shoving her into a sitting position.

An ear-splitting scream left her mouth, her throat raw from lack of water for hours on end. Tears welled in her eyes, and she fought to control her emotion- but she was exhausted and in pain, and she felt so weak.

"Oh, Red, if you can't keep quiet we'll have to bring the gag back," the man said, and Jenny stifled a cry as he ran the back of his hand down her cheek, his thumb rubbing along her cheekbone. "So pretty."

"Richard. Be careful. We do not want her to be hurt," came the cold, calculated Russian voice again, and Jenny tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry it hurt more than it helped. "Agent Gibbs will want her back in one piece."

Jenny cracked her eyes open slightly, catching sight of Svetlana as the woman walked by her.

She was tall and blonde, her skin pale as her hair. Her face was wide, and beautiful in a black widow kind of a way.

She sent a shiver up Jenny's back, which the redhead tried to suppress.

"But, Nat, I want to have fun," Richard said, and Jenny detected just a touch of a whine in his voice. Then, the hungry was made clear when his hand slid up her bare leg, and she bit her lip as she feebly tried move away from his advancing fingers. "Oh, I don't think she likes this, Nat. Whatever shall we do?"

"Oh, Richard, that is up to you," Svetlana replied, making Jenny whimper quietly in the back of her throat.

Jenny closed her eyes, trying to think of Jethro. Because with him, she was safe and happy and not here.

She inhaled.

* * *

><p><em>The Parisian streets were practically empty as Jenny dragged her lover through them.<em>

_The Eiffel Tower was lit up in the distance, a beacon to all twilight lovers. Jenny gazed at it in reverence, remembering the view from the top as they'd seen it yesterday- Jethro's arms wrapped around her._

_She thought that that just might be the safest place she'd ever been._

"_Jen- where are we going?" Jethro asked in her ear, his breath warm and intoxicating, awakening all of her senses. She tinged in just the right way, sending him a slow smile that sent all of his blood rushing south._

"_It's a surprise," she said, and he chuckled, shaking his head as they walked._

_She led him to a metal bridge over the Seine, and he peered at the locks that were interlocked with the bridge._

"_What're these?" he asked, fingering one with the initials 'EB' and 'GD'._

"_They're locks that couples put on the bridge. It's said that as long as the lock remains on the bridge, so will your love," Jenny answered, pointing to one with a diamond ring hooked into the bridge with the lock. "A lot of men propose this way, as you can see. It's a silly, romantic notion."_

_They lapsed into silence, walking along the bridge, looking at the various locks._

"_I don't think it's silly, Jen," Jethro said as they walked back to their apartment, wrapped close to each other._

_Her face creased into a smile, and she kissed his cheek. She didn't speak a word._

_But then, they always spoke best when they said nothing at all._

* * *

><p>Gibbs parked the car outside the warehouse complex, and the medical team van was right behind him. He had no idea how Jen would look after they'd found her, so he was prepared. Abby was in her lab, prepared for any new information, and Ducky was with the medical team.<p>

Tony, Tim, and Ziva were silent as they stepped out of the car, going around the back to don their bulletproof vests and NCIS jackets. They put their earbuds in and their NCIS caps on, and everyone checked their weapons.

Then, they began to move.

Gibbs held the lead, his gun drawn as they moved swiftly, without a sound. The first three warehouses were empty, and Gibbs' chest grew tighter and tighter with each failure.

They got a heat signature in the fourth warehouse.

He looked at Ziva from across the doorway, and once he nodded, they pointed their weapons into the building and moved forwards. They heard low voices and movement, and then, there was a heart-stopping, piercing scream.

Gibbs choked.

"Federal Agents!"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hi. Thank you for all the reviews. I know you all want to know what's next- so, I'm updating this before my other stories, since I still need to finish the new chapter of my Grey's Anatomy story and send it to my beta. And, well, I want to reach this story's resolution, because I like it.

There are minor spoilers for the dialogue of 'Judgment Day: Part 2', but I figure we've all seen the episode before, so it shouldn't be a huge big deal. I want Svetlana/Natasha to seem like a human- because she is. She lost the man she loved in the worst way possible, and she wants revenge- she wants someone to hurt just as badly as she did. I want you to keep that in mind as you read, please.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot.

* * *

><p>"Federal Agents!"<p>

Jenny heard those words through a haze of pain, and she honestly thought she was dreaming them.

It felt like she had been here for forever; she couldn't believe that rescue was even a possibility. Could they really be there for her?

She heard her captors gasp, though, and knew the words hadn't just been in her head. They had been Jethro, and Tony, and Ziva, and McGee.

She was going home.

* * *

><p>Gibbs led the group over to where the voices- and the scream- had been, and they found what they were looking for on the other side of a set of shelves.<p>

Jenny was stretched out on a cot, Natasha holding a gun to the redhead's face, and a burly, dark-haired man held a gun in their direction.

"Agent Gibbs- how nice of you to join us," Natasha said, a cruel smile on her face. "We have been having such a good time with your friend here."

Gibbs gripped his gun even harder, his vision blurring.

"Oh, I can see you do not like that," she continued, and Gibbs swallowed. "Well that is too bad."

"Hello Natasha. Or do you prefer Svetlana?" he asked, watching her shoulders stiffen at the name- at the memory of her former life. "Not business; this is personal."

"Svetlana died long ago," Natasha replied, her voice hard, full of suppressed emotion. "Though not at the hands of your useless friend, here."

"She spared you. And this is how you repay her?" Gibbs asked, his glare piercing her. "By kidnapping her, almost killing her?"

"It was you who killed Anatoly," she replied instead, her tone almost empty- but there was a hint of emotion that she couldn't hide as the gun she held pointed at Jenny began to shake slightly. Gibbs nodded brusquely, his eyes locked with hers.

"What was he to you?" he asked quietly, but the words echoed in the mostly-empty space, causing Natasha to flinch as emotions leaked into her formerly expressionless eyes.

"Everything," she replied in a whisper, one so full of pain and loss and bitterness that Gibbs had to swallow, because he'd been there before; he'd felt loss like that before. But it was Jenny that was being threatened with those words; her life was the cost of that statement.

And he couldn't let that happen.

"Why now?" he asked, trying to distract Natasha long enough to come up with a viable plan. He had to know; why, after seven years, was this happening now? Why had she waited so long to get revenge?

"Because it took me until now to find you," she replied, her words as cold as ice as she looked directly at him. "I'm going to do what she couldn't."

"You have no compassion?" Gibbs asked, and there was a loud snort from the dark-haired man standing off to Natasha's right side, on the other end of Jenny's bed. Gibbs remembered his name was Richard; the predator who had been at Jenny's house.

Gibbs would have no problem shooting him in the need arose.

"Compassion? This woman has a stick shoved so far up her ass compassion is like a foreign country to her," Richard said, laughing as he threw his head back and shook his head, his gun lowering slightly. Natasha's eyes narrowed, her mouth pinching as she frowned distastefully at the words.

"Why do you work with her?" Gibbs asked, directing the words at Richard, but keeping his eyes locked with Natasha, who refused to look away as well.

"Pays well. Pretty as fuck," Richard answered, and a cocky grin touched his face as he looked at Natasha admiringly. "Nice to tap such a nice piece of-"

A shot rang out, and Richard was dead before his body could crumple to the floor. No one flinched, they were so in shock, but Gibbs merely tightened his grip on his gun.

Natasha had never broken eye contact with him as she'd sent her bullet through Richard's temple and out the other side.

"Impressive," he said, though there was no admiration in his expression or his voice.

"I have become quite a good shot over the years," she replied in an even voice, though her eyes flickered with pain. She swallowed, blinking once before the moment had ended and she was as unreadable as mud, and Gibbs' shoulders tensed.

She traced the barrel of her gun over Jenny's temple, brushing back her tangled crimson locks, dipping down to Jenny's exposed, bloody neck. The redhead barely stirred; her eyes remained closed, her breathing stayed shallow and raspy, and her lips stayed parted. The only thing that let the team know that she had even reacted was the soft whimper that left the Director's lips as Natasha ran the gun over the redhead's clearly- injured shoulder.

Natasha looked up from tracing Jenny's torso with the gun, an evil glint in her eyes as she took in the nearly-imperceptible distress in Gibbs' eyes.

"I can see you do not like that, Agent Gibbs," she said, clearly taking enjoyment in his pain. "So you know how I felt when you held my Anatoly's life in your hands."

"I made it as painless as possible," Gibbs replied in a near growl, his voice rough. "You have dragged her through Hell!"

"She has dragged me through Hell for the past seven years!" Natasha cried in response, her eyes misted with tears of anger and pain. "Do you even know what it is like to awaken each morning and have your heart tear in two when you realize that everything you thought might just be a dream is actually your reality- that you have to spend another day without the one you love; another day without your everything? Tell me, Agent Gibbs, if you have- because it is like a fire, encasing your soul and burning it until it is merely ash, with no chance of being reborn, as a phoenix would. I will not be reborn until I am with him again!"

"I know what it is like," he replied in a low, even voice- though his eyes were burning, alight with emotion. "To wake up and realize that everything you knew to be your life before was gone, taken without your consent. I know what it's like to have everything snatched away, to feel hollow. I know what it's like to feel like you have no reason to live."

"You took my reason to live," Natasha said, bitter tears coursing down her cheeks. "No I must take yours."

"Will that really help your pain at all?" Gibbs asked, and Natasha swallowed, using her free hand to swipe at the bothersome tears coating her face. "Explain to me how it will."

"I want someone to hurt as I have for the past seven years," Natasha answered, her voice thick with emotion. "I want someone to feel the debilitating pain of loss that crushed me when I discovered my love was forever gone from this world. Someone needs to feel as I did."

"I have," Gibbs replied bluntly, and Natasha's eyes widened, though she didn't move the gun from Jenny's face. "Do you really want your pain to be gone, Natasha?"

She didn't answer, but Gibbs could see the truth in her eyes. Her hesitation was all he needed; he saw her finger relax on the trigger, and he spoke again.

"It's time for you to be reborn."

He pulled the trigger before she could react.

* * *

><p>The team stood frozen for a few moments after the gunshot, almost unable to comprehend what they'd just witnessed. Gibbs was the first to move, heading swiftly to where Jenny lay motionless.<p>

He pressed his fingers into her neck, finding her weak, thready pulse.

"C'mon Jen; open your eyes," he said under his breath, his fingers touching her cheek lightly as he looked at her, desperation touching his eyes. "Please."

She stirred slightly, coughing weakly. He held his breath, waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Then, Jenny coughed again, stronger this time. He leaned forward slightly, searching her face.

Then, slowly- so slowly it physically hurt him- her eyelids began to move.

Her dull, emerald green eyes locked with his tense, cobalt blue ones.

She exhaled.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks so much for all of the reviews! I know I haven't updated 'Torn' yet, but this story and its inspiration have taken control of my muse. After this story is finished in the next three chapters following this one, I will kick my muse's ass, I promise.

I am not a doctor; anything wrong with the medical aspect of this story would be Grey's Anatomy's fault, or it just came from my imagination.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot.

* * *

><p>The ambulance ride took twenty five minutes; Gibbs rode with Jenny and the EMT who was examining her.<p>

It was possibly the longest ride of his life.

She didn't open her eyes the entire time the EMT was examining her; she'd barely reacted when Gibbs had picked her up and carried her out of the warehouse, leaving the team with the bodies of Natasha and Richard.

Her shoulder was swollen and inflamed, leaking blood and green-ish pus from having an untreated infection. The EMT was clearly worried about Jenny's lack of response, and when they reached the hospital he had her out and with the doctor's before Gibbs could even register they'd arrived.

He tried to follow as her gurney was pushed into the ER, but was stopped by a burley doctor that directed him to the waiting area. Annoyed, Gibbs began to pace the small area that was devoid of anyone beside himself.

Within half an hour, he knew the dimensions of the room in footsteps. Twenty steps wide, fifteen steps tall. There were seven chairs, and the door was located in the lower left corner.

He felt like the walls were caving in on him.

"Agent Gibbs?"

He turned at the sound of a tired feminine voice, finding a young, exhausted-looking brunette intern looking at him.

"Director Shepard has been taken into surgery," the young woman informed him, and he swallowed, nodding sharply as his arms folded over his chest. "The bullet lodged in her should needs to be removed, and as much of the infected tissue will be removed as possible."

"Did she wake up?" he asked, his voice hoarse from not using it. He cleared his throat, and the young woman's green eyes softened ever-so-slightly, though her lips curved downward.

"Unfortunately, Director Shepard did not open her eyes before we put her under for surgery," the intern said, shaking her head so that her long brunette ponytail swayed behind her. "But she suffered major trauma, so it wasn't too surprising."

"How long will the surgery take?" Gibbs asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, clearly uncomfortable.

"It depends on the amount of infected tissue," the woman said, sighing softly. "Approximately four hours, most likely. Dr. Torres is very good at what she does. She'll be out once it's finished."

Gibbs nodded and the woman disappeared, leaving him alone once again. He let out a heavy breath, sinking down into a chair and shoving his head into his hands.

His chest ached.

* * *

><p>The car ride to the hospital was silent.<p>

Tony drove, Ziva sat in the passenger seat, and McGee called Abby, telling her to meet them at the hospital. Ducky drove back to the agency with the bodies; he would drop the bodies off at the morgue and then drive Abby to the hospital.

Not a word had been spoken since they'd walked into the warehouse.

Ziva's hand rested on the arm rest, and swallowing, Tony placed his hand over hers, his skin warm against her cold palm. She didn't look at him, but her fingers slid between his, gripping onto the lifeline he was throwing her.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, her accented voice filling the car, breathing out the first syllables of the past hour.

"Anytime," Tony answered roughly, looking at her with stormy hazel eyes that were so full of conflicted emotions her heart broke.

Tim leaned forward, touching Ziva's shoulder and squeezing gently. She crossed the hand not in Tony's over her body and covered Tim's, her skin smooth against his.

"It's over, Ziva," Tim whispered, and she bit her lip, brown eyes glistening with tears.

"I know," she whispered, voice hoarse with emotion that was leaking through as relief took over her body. "I know."

They didn't speak the rest of the car ride.

* * *

><p>Gibbs looked up when he heard footsteps, and his team came into the room, dropping into the three chairs across from his own.<p>

"Any word?" Tony asked, running a hand messily through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. Gibbs shook his head, his face hollow.

"She's in surgery," he said, staring at his hands. "Be a couple more hours."

"Oh," Tony said in reply, looking at Gibbs like he wanted to say something more, but couldn't figure out what.

"Goin' for coffee," Gibbs said rather brusquely a few minutes later as he stood and walked out the door without looking back, leaving the three adults in the small room. Ziva was restless; she stood and paced the box-like room, her hands alternating between shaking at her sides and wringing together in front of her.

"Why have we been given no updates?" she said after they'd been in the waiting room for forty five minutes. "Not a single word, and we have been here almost an hour."

Neither of the men had an answer for her, and Gibbs hadn't arrived back from his coffee run yet, so Ziva fell silent and just paced faster.

Abby and Ducky arrived about ten minutes after Ziva's outburst, and Abby immediately went over to the Israeli and hugged her tightly. Ziva's only reaction was to hold onto the Goth tightly, burying her face in her shoulder and trying to breathe.

Abby merely held her tighter.

"Where is Jethro?" Ducky asked Tim quietly, worry in his eyes as he regarded the two women embracing tightly.

"He went to get coffee almost an hour ago," Tim replied in a low voice, his mouth turned down in the corners at the tears glistening in Abby's eyes. "Hasn't come back once."

"And the Director?" Ducky asked without comment on Gibbs' disappearance, though his frown deepened considerably.

"In surgery, haven't received any word on her condition yet," Tim said, sighing softly, and Ducky closed his eyes, running a hand over his face tiredly.

"I'll go see what I can find out from a nurse," he said, letting out a breath and exiting the room, where Abby and Ziva still hadn't broken apart.

Finally, the two women separated and Abby came and clung to Tony, who stood up to receive her hug, one of his hands cupping the back of her head and the other around her waist, supporting her as she leaned against him, needing his support. A few tears trailed down her cheeks and splashed against his neck, but he didn't comment. He just turned and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, letting her get out what she needed to get out. Ducky arrived a few moments later, taking a seat beside Ziva and touching her shoulder blade gently.

"Are you all here for Director Shepard?" a tall, tan, dark-haired doctor said, still in her scrubs as she stood in the doorway. At their nods, she moved further into the room and turned to face all of them, looking serious. "I'm Dr. Callie Torres, I performed the surgery to remove the bullet from the Director's shoulder. We had to remove some of the infected tissue surrounding the bullet because it was beyond saving, but she is now on a course of antibiotics and the infection should be cleared up."

Callie took a deep breath before continuing, making sure they were all with her.

"The chloroform weakened her kidneys and her liver, so we'll have her do dialysis for the next few days, to clear out her system of any lingering poison," Callie said, looking at each person. Then, her expression darkened somewhat as she continued. "Because there was a delay in treatment, however, the chloroform entered her brain stem, and therefore, she'll be experiencing the trembling side effect for the rest of her life, most likely. The molecules have been absorbed by her brain tissue, and can't be removed. It's something she's going to have to live with."

Abby gasped quietly, her eyes filling with more tears, and Tony linked his fingers with hers, allowing her to hold onto him tightly again.

"She'll need physical therapy once her shoulder is healed, and she'll be in a large amount of pain. She was assaulted, and will have to go into therapy for the trauma she suffered," Callie said, and everyone swallowed heavily. "A recovery is possible, but she experienced things no one ever should. She hasn't awoken yet, most likely because of the trauma she suffered, and she's in the ICU until she does. I'll inform you when she'll be able to receive visitors."

They all nodded, and Callie turned to leave. But then she turned back around, her dark eyes curious.

"Does she have a husband, or any family for us to call?" she asked, and a dullness spread over the adults gathered. No one answered until Ducky spoke up, his accented voice soft.

"Only us. And Agent Gibbs, who seems to have disappeared," Ducky answered, and Callie nodded, her expression tinged with sadness.

"Alright. If you'd like, I can fill him in when he reappears," she offered, and everyone shook their heads.

"We'll tell him," Ducky said, looking at his colleagues. "He'll only want to know when she'll be ready for visitors. Callie nodded before leaving them alone again. Everyone sank into their seats, her words ringing in their ears.

And all Ducky could wonder was where the hell Jethro was.

And why he wasn't waiting for news on Jennifer?


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks so much for all of the reviews! I just want to make something clear: there really is no such thing as 'okay' in this story. Jenny's gone through too much to really be 'okay' for a long time.

Everyone hated Gibbs for not being there at the end of last chapter- I hope that this makes you all think a little less harsh of him.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot.

* * *

><p>Gibbs sat in the last row of the hospital chapel, his arms folded over his chest and his throat clogged with unspoken emotion.<p>

He didn't follow any religion- he'd grown up in a small town where it was expected that he go to church every Sunday, and he'd gone, but he didn't believe in a lot of the things that were spewed at Mass. He believed in God in a sense, but he'd experienced too much heartbreak to truly believe that someone was pulling for him up above.

He leaned forward so that his elbows dug into his knees, and he cradled his head in his hands, his eyes closed.

No one was in the room with him; there was a large, gaudy cross and a few candles that had spluttered out in the time he'd spent staring at the blank white walls. There were four rows of benches split into two columns, a small section to walk to the front of the room in between the columns.

He touched his mouth to his fingers, breathing in deeply as he searched for the words he needed to say aloud.

"Hey Shan," he said hoarsely, his voice echoing in the empty room. "I know I haven't talked to ya in a while…been busy."

He winced at his words; they sounded lame in his ears, but he needed to get this off his chest.

"You know I'd never ask much of ya…but could you do this one thing for me?" he asked, closing his eyes and seeing Shannon again, young and redheaded and beautiful. "Could you…make sure Jen wakes up? Don't welcome her up there with ya just yet."

He swallowed, touching his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut tightly, his throat burning.

"I miss you," he whispered, and the raw honesty scorched his throat as the words left it. "So much, Shan."

A few moment of silence followed, and then he stood, clearing his throat. With one last look at the cross, he nodded and then turned, leaving the small, unused chapel.

Maybe Jen was awake.

* * *

><p>When the team heard footsteps they looked up, slightly surprised to see Gibbs.<p>

"Boss, the doctor came out…"

"Jennifer is out of surgery," Ducky cut in, and Gibbs' blue eyes widened. Turning, he walked directly up to the nurse at the station and looked her right in the eye.

"Director Shepard's room," he said, his voice cold as steel and just as deadly. She drew herself up to her full height- which wasn't much- and returned his glare.

"She's still unconscious. You will be informed when she's able to accept visitors," she said, her voice icy cold. "Please take a seat, sir."

"I don't think so," Gibbs said, resting his palms on the counter and towering over the petite brunette nurse. "Room number. Now."

"Sir, if you don't take a seat I'm going to have to call secur-"

"The woman who you are refusing to let me see is the Director of a Federal Agency, and should not be without someone by her bedside, as she was just rescued from being kidnapped. Her detail has not yet arrived, and someone needs to be with her at all times. I am that someone," Gibbs said, his voice soft but dangerous, and the nurse paled. Her hand shaking, she ran down the list until she found Jenny's room.

"203," she said, her voice small, and Gibbs nodded curtly.

Then, he stormed off in the direction of the room.

* * *

><p>She looked so fragile.<p>

Pale against the stark white sheets, Jenny looked like a porcelain doll. Her shoulder was wrapped in gauze and covered with a thick white bandage, and her features were thinned with exhaustion and dehydration.

There was a thick, purple bruise forming on the left side of her jaw, and Gibbs swallowed at how damaged she looked.

Coming to stand by her left side, he gently traced his finger down her cheek, the skin clammy to the touch from her fever. She was still deeply unconscious, and he let out a breath, his chest aching.

He hurt for her.

There were cuts on her forearms from who-knows-what, and one of her toes on her right foot had been broken by her captors, according to her chart. She had a long road to recovery- the rape kit had come up positive.

Gibbs was glad Richard was dead.

Her emotion barriers were considerably weakened, and he swallowed again, because Jenny didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve any of this.

There was so much he could have done to prevent this. So much that he could have done to change this.

He couldn't help feeling like this was all his fault.

He was the one who had pushed her so hard in Paris- he's taught her that failure was unacceptable. And because he'd established that ground rule, she'd felt that she couldn't tell him when she'd been unable to make the kill.

And now she was lying here in a hospital bed and it was all his fault.

"Jenny," he whispered, and the name hurt so much when it passed his lips. It was like a knife clawing at his esophagus. "Jenny."

He couldn't get anything more than that to leave his mouth, so he stood and watched her sleep.

* * *

><p>Ducky was watching the four adults in front of him comfort each other when he heard the familiar voice talking to the nurse.<p>

"William?" he asked, turning around and heading towards his former colleague, who turned and greeted him with a half-smile.

"Ducky," he said, shaking the Scottish man's hand. "How is she?"

"Jethro is with her. We do not know much yet," he said, and Decker sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Why are you here?"

"Needed to know she was okay," Decker replied with a shrug, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "She's still my friend."

"It's nice to see you again, Will," Ducky said, and Decker tried to smile, but it looked too much like a grimace.

"Wish I didn't have to be here, Ducky," Decker replied, and Ducky sighed, nodding.

Ducky wished he wasn't there too.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews! Only one more chapter follows this one, and then we're finished!

Don't know who watched the episode, but I was a little disappointed with the Abby arc. I hope the Ziva one is as good as the Tim one. I really liked the Tim one.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot.

* * *

><p>Gibbs left Jenny's room after an hour of watching her sleep, shutting the door silently behind him as he leaned against the wall, running a hand down his tired face.<p>

He walked slowly back to where the team was waiting, and that's when he saw Will.

He saw red.

Before he knew it he had crossed the space between them and was pulling his fist back; the next thing he remembered was his fist connecting with Will's jaw.

"God damn Gibbs!" Decker cried, cradling his aching jaw with his hands, glaring at the older man. "What the hell was that for?"

"If you hadn't helped her keep this a secret, she wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed unconscious," Gibbs said, his voice low but deadly. Will's face twisted, and he swallowed, crossing his arms over his chest before he spoke.

"Gibbs, you have no idea-"

"I do, Deck," he said, shaking his head. "Svetlana wouldn't have even been in the picture. You know the agency would have sent you or me to kill her."

Will scrubbed a hand down his face, his dark eyes exhausted. He looked drained; Gibbs guessed it was from the flight he'd taken to get here.

"Deck, why're you here?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm and regretting the swing he'd taken at his former coworker.

"I needed to know what was going on; if she was alright," Will replied, sighing quietly. "A phone call wasn't gonna cut it."

Gibbs swallowed, nodding. He knew the feeling. He looked at Will again, and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

Extending his hand, he met Will's gaze.

"Good to see you again, Will."

* * *

><p>Jenny's head hurt.<p>

That was the first thing that registered to her when she awoke.

She shifted slightly and let out a groan, pain radiating from her shoulder and throughout her body. Everything hurt everywhere, and she pushed against her heavy eyelids, wincing at the bright light above her.

"Jen?"

She stiffened slightly at the sound of a masculine voice, but then she recognized it as Jethro's and she relaxed, sighing softly. She opened her eyes, finding his face hovering above her, slightly off to the side.

"How ya feelin'?" he asked gently, his face softer than she'd seen it in a long time. She tried to swallow and winced, causing Jethro to reach towards her, wanting to help, but realizing he couldn't.

"Water," she said hoarsely, and he helped her adjust the bed so that she was sitting up slightly and helped her with the cup and straw, wetting her throat. "Thank you."

They lapsed into silence, and Jenny shifted uncomfortably. She had to pee, but she didn't want to do anything with Jethro in the room, and she certainly didn't want him to watch her every move to check for failures on her part.

"You were out two days," he said after a moment, his hand resting on the back of his neck. "Massive fever from an infection in your shoulder."

"They get the bullet out?" she asked, wincing as she looked down at the large dressing. He nodded, rubbing more vigorously at his neck- so much so that she thought he'd rub the skin raw.

"Some of the infection tissue too."

More silence followed his words, and Jenny's need to use the bathroom grew. She was about to make up some excuse when he spoke, making an excuse unnecessary.

"I gotta go to the team, and Deck."

Her eyes widened, and he nodded, his eyes on his toes.

"He flew out a few days ago," he said, and Jenny swallowed. "Worried about ya."

She nodded, glancing down at her trembling fingers in her lap.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said, and she nodded again, not looking up from her hands. "Glad you're okay, Jen."

She looked up, biting her lip, and he met her eyes for the first time since she'd opened them.

She merely nodded, unable to find an appropriate response to his concern. It felt foreign and forced, and she swallowed as he closed the door.

Struggling to sit up a little bit more, pain flooded her body and she bit her lip, hard, to stop herself from crying. She cradled her useless arm close to her body, and her foot ached as she dragged it across the sterile white sheets. She put it down on the ground, and when she tried to stand she-

crumpled.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she forced herself back into bed, pain radiating from everywhere. Curling up in a ball with her good shoulder pressing into the sheets, she tucked her face into her pillow and sobbed silently, every memory and feeling and horrible moment of the warehouse playing over in her mind.

She hurt so much.

What she didn't know was that Gibbs heard her crying from the other side of the door.

* * *

><p>Jenny turned when she heard the quiet knock on her door, and when the door opened to reveal William Decker, she let him in with a small smile- all she could muster these days.<p>

"Hey Will," she said softly, glancing up at him from the armchair by the window. They'd allowed her to change into real clothes for the duration of her stay, and she was enjoying the comfortable yoga pants Ziva had brought her.

"Hey Jen," he replied just as softly, his eyes searching her face. Will was the only person aside from Jethro and her father that used that nickname, and she didn't mind Will using it.

"Thank you for flying out," she said, glancing out the window as she spoke. "You didn't have to."

"But I did," he said, and she looked at him, questions in her eyes. "You know Gibbs knows."

"I do know that," she replied, shrugging slightly and then wincing at the pain that caused her shoulder. "I understand why you told him. You had to."

"Doesn't mean I wanted to break your trust," he said, and she sighed, rubbing at her neck.

"Will, I understand," she said, reaching over and barely brushing the skin of the back of his hand. "You probably saved my life. I owe you."

"Consider us even," he said, and she managed another smile.

"Thank you, Will," she said, raising saddened green eyes to his. "I do mean it. I owe you my life."

"I owe you mine," he replied softly, sending her a look that spoke volumes. "You saved me a long time ago, Jen."

Jenny swallowed, tears pricking her eyes. She looked away, blinking at the bothersome moisture.

"Don't push Gibbs away," Will said, and she glanced at him, questioning. "He cares about you, Jen, more than you know. You need his support."

Jenny was silent, and Will sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't mean to overstep, but, Jen…just take care of yourself," he said, and she nodded, hair tumbling around her shoulders. "It was nice to see you again, Jenny."

She nodded, looking back up at him.

"You too Will," she said, but her tone was different. "Enjoy LA."

He nodded, and sent her a smile before he left the room. She leaned back in the chair, looking out at DC.

Her chest hurt.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I cannot get over the response to this story- I honestly was not expecting it to be so popular. But I'm so glad to see that everyone liked it- and, I hope that this conclusion is just as enjoyed.

The keyword for this chapter is dissonance. It's used a lot in music (where I know it from); it is conflicting notes that are not overtones of the note or chord sounding. Basically, it doesn't resolve as a chord, making it unpleasant to the ear in most cases. In the case of this chapter: there is no resolution to the plot. This is the case where I am ending during the falling action part of the plot, instead of continuing to a solid resolution.

This is truly the end: I will not be writing more, no matter how much anyone begs. Maybe a sequel, sometime in the future, but not now; I will be glad to only have two stories to update instead of three as I do now.

I'm hoping to update 'Torn' on Monday, which is my first free day after tonight. Those that have been missing it, some of the emotions you know and love are in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I only own the plot.

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><p>Two weeks after she was admitted, Jenny was released with her arm in a sling, a bottle of pain killers, and a slip for a therapist.<p>

She was not allowed to go home alone; the hospital wouldn't allow it. So, naturally, she would be staying with Gibbs.

She didn't know how she felt about that.

He drove to her house so that she could pick up the necessities, and as he parked on the street, she took a deep breath. He looked at her, cobalt eyes shaded with concern, and she blew out the breath, opening her door.

He walked two steps behind her until they reached the front door, and she unlocked it with shaky hands, pushing the heavy front door in to reveal a cleaned hallway. Gibbs had sent the team in a few days prior to make sure there was nothing triggering in the area.

What he didn't know was that just being in the hallway where she'd been shot and kidnapped was triggering for Jenny.

They walked silently to her bedroom, and Gibbs waited in the hallway as Jenny collected a few pairs of yoga pants and jeans, selecting a few t-shirts and undergarments as well. Throwing everything into a duffel bag, she picked out her toiletries and placed them in a small zippered bag, putting it into her duffel bag. Last she grabbed a few of her books and a small journal, and placed them in the bag along with a few scented candles.

They stopped in the kitchen to grab her tea bags from France and her special blend of coffee, and then they were done.

The drive home was silent; neither felt the need to speak, and Jenny looked out the window, lost in thought. Her shoulder ached, and she rested her head against the cool window of the car, closing her eyes.

Gibbs' eyes kept drifting over to the redhead in the passenger seat, and he swallowed, looking back at the road.

She was pale and thin; he knew she wasn't eating. Her pain killers were supposed to be taken at meal times, but he'd already seen her pop a pill with only a bottle of water as her sustenance.

But he wasn't going to lecture her. That wasn't his job, not anymore.

They arrived at his house, and he grabbed her bag from the backseat as he got out. She trailed after him as they walked to the front door, and her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the house as they entered it.

"You're in the guest room," he said, breaking the silence they'd had since the hospital.

He didn't say it, but Jenny knew that the guest room had once been Kelly's. It made her swallow, and she followed him as he brought her bag to where she'd be staying for the next few weeks.

She'd taken some time off from being Director; she'd been practically forced by SecNav, and deep down she knew she needed it. She needed to deal with what had happened to her.

She didn't want to deal with it.

"Hungry?" Gibbs asked, and she shook her head. She dug out the tin of tea bags and placed it at the foot of her bed, swallowing.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said quietly, looking up at him uncertainly. "Then I'm going to make some tea. Maybe read."

Gibbs nodded, shifting his stance awkwardly as he placed his hands in his pockets.

"Be in the basement," he said, and she nodded, looking through her bag for a new set of clothes. Her pain killers slid out, and Gibbs looked away, clearing his throat. "Call if you need anything."

She nodded again, and then he exited the room, leaving her with her thoughts.

She stood there, staring at the spot where he'd stood for a few moments before she blinked, and then she walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She needed to feel clean again after being in her house.

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><p>An hour and a half later, Jenny stepped out of her bedroom, showered and dressed in a clean pair of yoga pants and a simple white t-shirt that had taken nearly ten minutes to get on, and a single, solitary band-aid on her inner forearm, near the crease of her elbow.<p>

She brewed herself a cup of the Parisian-blend tea, and brought her mug downstairs to the basement, where Gibbs was. She discovered him sanding a rib of his boat, a coffee mug of bourbon near him. He turned when he heard her footsteps, his blue eyes studying her before returning to his task.

She settled on the couch in the corner, curling up with her tea and her book, but she didn't open the medical mystery she'd chosen.

"Will Hollis be stopping by?" she asked evenly, honestly curious. She wanted to know when she should not be around.

"No," he replied shortly, his shoulders jumping slightly as he tensed. "She won't."

"Oh," Jenny replied, her fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic of the mug.

"It wasn't gonna work anyway, Jen," he said, and she nodded, blowing on her tea gently. "It wasn't because, you know…you got kidnapped."

"I believe you," she said, seeing that he was trying to convince her- and maybe himself too.

They lapsed into silence, and Jenny scratched at her band-aid. Gibbs looked at it, and his eyes narrowed, looking at it more intensely.

"What happened?" he asked, and she looked down at it, biting her.

"I may have cut myself," she said, keeping her eyes on her arm.

"Why?" Gibbs asked, just sounding tired and defeated.

"I felt something," she said softly, fingering the bandage. "I accidently cut my ankle, and it actually hurt, and- it just happened."

She fell silent, and he swallowed.

"You can't keep doing it," he said after a moment, and she half-nodded, half-shrugged.

"I know," she said, and she looked so small on his couch, her hair up in a messy, tangled bun, her clothes hanging off of her thin frame.

He wanted to say something else- anything else- but he couldn't think of something that wasn't clichéd or stupid or ignorant. She seemed to disappear into the sofa- she stretched out, and was practically swallowed by the piece of furniture.

So instead, he took a deep drink of bourbon and relished the burning of his esophagus.

It wasn't until about an hour later, when he'd thought she'd fallen asleep, that she spoke again, in a voice that was so bitter he almost cringed at the tone coming from her lips.

"I wonder if things would be better if I was dead."

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, and he swallowed, looking at her. What could he say to this broken, bitter, fragile woman that could possibly help her?

He didn't know if he could ever help her.

"Easier, maybe. Not better," he replied simply, tilting his head back slightly and looking at her with unreadable eyes. She looked at him, biting her lip, her tea mug still in her hands, though it had long grown cold.

"Not much left for me now," she said with a bitter laugh, but her eyes were sad, an olive green instead of emerald. She looked so weak.

"Got me," Gibbs replied, shrugging slightly as he folded his arms and leaned back against the workbench, the wood pressing into his lower back just enough to hurt.

"I used to," were her quiet responding words, soft enough to break his heart- and they did. "But I lost you a long time ago. I know I can't get you back. I don't deserve to get you back."

The silence that followed her words filled the dark basement with suffocating honesty.

-The End-


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